Suspicion
by LA
Summary: Scott, Remy and Jean feature in this alternate universe. It's not Shakespeare, but I hope you enjoy.


Disclaimer: Most characters are Marvel's. Colonel Casey is mine I guess, but he's pretty much your run of the mill frustrated American military commander. You know the type. Three guesses who The Cat is...

It's Gambit by the by :op

This is another piece I wrote for English in year 10/11, that kind of cheese. I think I changed Scott and Jean's names though. I decided to keep Gambit as The Cat as he doesn't give his name, I guess it's more of a reputation than a code name.

Oh, and by the way it was a word challenge – we had to use all the words on a list we received in the story such as chagrin and masticate. So If you think there are a couple of words that feel out of place, that's why. Suspicion was a set title too. The teacher also thought this was written by a boy, again (see Crime Doesn't Pay).

I got the 'room full of rocking chairs' comparison from the animated series :o) .

* * *

Suspicion

****

He was good looking, tanned, tall and muscular – but not bulky – every man's envy. At only twenty years old he could have any woman he wanted, and, to worsen his case, he was friendly with Scott's superior. Scott hated him for it.

The mysterious kid had waltzed in to the high-security base only a week ago and had infuriated Scott Summers from the word go. The base was as well guarded as the pentagon with cameras filming every angle, sensors roaming every corridor, military police guarding every door. Yet he had marched up to Scott claiming Colonel Casey had invited him over, without giving a reason for being there let alone identification or even a hint of respect. Of course, Scott had one of his men place the nut under lock and key until Casey arrived, but further disrespect was all he received.

"What?! You buffoon! You put THE CAT in a holding cell?!" The Colonel, closely followed by a confused, reddening Captain Summers, flew down to the holding cells only to find them all empty. Scott's heart sank. They searched high and low to eventually discover a smirking Cat sprawled out comfortably at the table by the kitchenette.

"Oh, there you are Cat," puffed the ever-so-slightly out of shape Colonel. "I'm sorry about Captain Summers' error in placing you in a cell."

"Quite understandable Henry," purred the lightly European-accented voice emanating from the cocky youngster. "So tell me, why do you need me here? Other than the fact that you need a new chef!" the Cat joked, gesturing to a plate of lasagne Scott had made.

The Colonel then led Cat into his office and shut the door in Scott's face. Scott declared to the world then and there that he was having a bad day. Unfortunately, it was only quarter past eight in the morning.

To add insult to injury, Summers learned later that the snotty-nosed boy was actually a master escape artist; a saboteur, an information gatherer, a spy. In short a master criminal, in fact the best in the business. Oh, and he would be staying with Scott for the time being.

As he drove home that night with the infuriating Cat in the passenger seat, Scott attempted to make conversation. Cat obviously had other plans.

"So, Cat, where are you from?" Scott started.

"Here and there," came the nonchalant reply. So Scott tried again.

"That's an interesting accent you have there," Captain Summers left it open this time.

"I've been 'round," another cryptic answer.

'He certainly has,' thought Scott. The Colonel had warned him about the boy's infamous reputation with women, though Scott was sure he need not worry about his newly wed, she had her feet planted firmly on the ground.

Scott found himself wondering how such a young man was such a successful … escape artist. Surely it took many years of training. Then again, his muscles were very well defined for someone his age. He must have started early.

Of course, The Cat hit it off straight away with Jean. The first morning Cat stayed, Scott awoke later than his wife – an unusual occurrence. Upon arriving in the kitchen, Scott had found Jean bent over in some cupboard - searching for an illusive ingredient and giggling at something Cat had said - whilst Cat himself masticated cockily at the kitchen table, watching Jean's every move.

The site was an infuriating one for Summers, who refused to believe he was jealous of this slime. He felt as though they were a flock of sheep who had admitted a wolf to their ranks. Fortunately, Scott was definitely a sheep and so followed his Colonel's orders to keep The Cat happy.

When the week finally came to an end – and the government top security need-to-know-basis have-you-checked-your-life-insurance mission was on the verge of being executed – Captain Summers was at his wit's end. At least he would be rid of his feline friend soon. Scott was definitely a dog person.

At that very moment, the valiant Captain Summers was more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He was used to being field leader, taking all the tough calls and the split second decisions. He was not used to taking orders from non-military who were barely out of their teens. Cat was carrying out most of the mission – single handed – which annoyed Scott no-end (although he would never admit that he was actually extremely impressed) and he and his unit were awaiting Cat's signal.

"Almost there," came a whisper over the communication system. Sweat trickled down Captain Summers' forehead. CLICK! Another message:

"Abort, ABORT," a placid voice whispered into Scott's ear. Scott Summers, however, was not so calm.

"What?! Justify!" he had to restrain himself from screaming. An exasperated voice replied,

"It's a set-up."

Back at the base, Casey was livid.

"There is a leak in this unit, an informant for the enemy. I want to know who it is. THIS INSTANT!" the Colonel bellowed.

"Three guesses," commented Scott dryly, turning to look at Cat.

"Guesswork, Scott Summers, would not be necessary were you and your obtuse unit a little more astute. I have only been here a week and I know exactly who is your leak," stated the Cat complacently, almost snobbily, comfortably lounging in a chair near the edge of the room. "It's your wife, Captain."

"What?! You have no proof! You're just-" but Scott stopped himself before he could be further branded a fool. The mist of deception cleared to reveal a disturbing scene. The wolf had led the sheep to its jaws whilst the cat had watched and laughed.

The night-classes his wife had been going to, all the questions about his day at work - how could he have been so blind to these and a multitude of other telltale signs? When they were married two weeks ago she had become a citizen of the United States but had she been one before? He had never thought to check. He hadn't thought to check the oldest trick in the book! He was an idiot and everyone knew.

The Cat returned with Scott to his empty house a night later. Having collected all of his few belongings, he headed off. Scott caught The Cat before he padded silently out the front door. Odd. He hadn't heard him descend the stairs. He must have been almost completely silent - just like a cat, the captain mused. Scott stared out of the open doorway into the meaningless depth of the night and glared at the mocking stars.

"How did you know?" Scott enquired humbly. Cat grinned sadistically.

"In my profession you need to know when you're sleeping with the enemy." With that, he disappeared into the night.

* * *

Story by LA

E-mail: 

Here's the word list I had to use in case you're interested:

Masticate

Obtuse

Awoke

Nonchalant (as if there's a Gambit story which doesn't include this one)!

Illusive

Infamous

Government

Successful

Valiant

Placid

Complacent

Sadistic

I went through the story and they stood out so much because it was so unnatural for me – or it just sounded good(!) – so it was easy to pick them out.


End file.
